


Playing With Danger - The Redux

by Mayamali



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, M/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayamali/pseuds/Mayamali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scout, along with a team of 8 others, is picked up and hired by BLU to fight mercenaries belonging to rival company RED. But things are never what they seem, and the search for the truth leads to a whirlwind of learning who to trust. Re-written and re-posted from Fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dislocation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Playing With Danger](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/77762) by HaraKumiko. 



> Playing With Danger was originally posted to Fanfiction.net in 2009, and it was my lovely little brainchild that I was very proud of. Of course, all these years later, there are glaring issues that I've decided should be addressed. Therefore, this is an almost total re-write of all 22 chapters, epilogue included, featuring more thorough characterization, a slower introduction to the main plot, and less emphasis on romance. It should also be noted that this work is a psuedo-prequel to the game.

The train ride was a long, grueling trial of torture.

The train cars were completely empty, save for the staff, who had vanished the second the train went into motion, and a large man sitting in the back. I had tried to talk to him a few minutes into the ride, mostly out of boredom, but he had just looked at me and growled in a thick Russian accent, “I'm sleeping now. Leave me alone.”  
Sitting on the seat next to him was a large duffel bag, crumpling in on itself in some spots to fill in the shape of a very large gun, and his suitcase was on the floor. I figured it was safe to assume he was there for the same reason as me. The fact we both wore blue-colored shirts was only a mild comfort in the face of this man's rather intimidating size.

So I took to staring out the window, watching a whole lot of nothing, save for an expanse of sand and the occasional cactus. It was scenic, in a way. But it was also boring as hell. I was used to the hustle and bustle of Boston, kicking up gravel on a stretch of train tracks that seemed to stretch for miles, taming the alleys and streets with nothing but an attitude and a bat as I left everyone in the dust.  
Speed was always my forte. I'd been in track ever since elementary school, and lettered in it in high school. Eventually, I picked up baseball as well, under the not-so gentle prodding of my mom, who'd gotten wind that me and my brothers had been getting into trouble. Needless to say, my speed combined with my killer swing made me an MVP throughout school.

I blinked, peering into the distance out the window. I thought I saw something on the horizon, some kind of building maybe. That is, until I pulled away and realized it was just a speck on the window. With a roll of my eyes and a scoff, I rested my head against my first, mind wandering to what the hell I was doing out here.

BLU – Builders' League United. They'd called me up not too long after I graduated high school, promising that if I'd come to work for them, they'd pay me enough to pay my way through college and then some. I said yes without a second thought. And now, here I was, sitting on a train car with a stand-offish Russian dude and a non-existent staff. I was starting to feel like this might have not been the smartest choice.

It was another hour before I saw an actual legitimate building approaching us quickly. After hearing something move behind me and looking up to see the big guy shuffling past me with his massive bags, I shrugged and grabbed my own bag and suitcase before getting up and following as the train slowed to a stop. I couldn't help but notice that this guy was so tall, he had to duck to keep his head from hitting the roof of the train car.  
I quickly followed him as he made his way out of the front, stopping to blink in surprise at the fact that there was, indeed, a driver, and out into the heat. The train car had been air conditioned, so the sudden change in temperature made me choke when I went to take a breath. I took a second to catch my breath before noticing the giant big, concrete building within walking distance. Guessing that was my next destination, I shifted my bag over my shoulder, re-adjusted my grip on my suitcase, and starting trudging towards it.

The second I entered the building, I groaned in relief and dropped my bags, spreading my arms wide. “Air conditioning!”  
“Would like it colder,” said the Russian as he ducked through the door behind me. “But will do.”  
I only had time to glance at him, noticing a name tag on the duffel bag titled 'Sasha' before I noticed something peering out from behind an entryway across from us. I stepped forward to try and get a better look when I heard a strange clicking sound.

It was only then that I figured out that I was staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

I yelped, stumbling backwards and raising my hands in surrender. “Don't shoot! What the hell?!”  
The shotgun was soon followed by a face, peering at us questioningly. “Wasn't expecting you for another hour,” a gruff, military commando-esque voice said accusingly.  
“Well, uh... we're here now?”

The shotgun stayed aimed at us, moving between me and the big guy, before it pulled away, and the source of the voice stepped into the open. “Looks like you are. At ease, gentlemen.” I relaxed almost immediately. The big guy, however, did not, mostly because he hadn't been un-eased in the first place. “Can't be too careful; the other team's showing up today, too. I'm Jacob Roberson,” Commando-guy continued, resting his shotgun over his shoulder. “I've been told my code name is 'Soldier'. You'll be using that.” He nodded at us before moving back to the wall, squinting at a clipboard that had been posted there. “Names?”

“U-uh, Bryan Micheals, sir,” I said, mildly wigged out. I don't know why I said 'sir'; I was never a 'sir' kind of person. Quite the opposite, actually. Watching guys like this get red in the face at Bostonian attitude always made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But I called him 'sir', and he nodded in approval before turning to the big guy.  
“Aleksandr Astapkovich,” he said after a long pause, shifting the duffel bag in his hand. “'N this is Sasha – do NOT touch her.” This was enunciated with a sharp look at me and Soldier.

“...Duly noted,” Soldier said, eyeing Aleksandr up and down before turning back to the clipboard. “Let's see...” He tapped something on the clipboard. “Ah! There we are. Looks like... Scout --” He pointed at me, without ever looking over his shoulder. “And Heavy.” He pointed at Aleksandr. He paused for a moment, turning back to us. “Was there anyone else on the train? I got word our Engineer was supposed to be with you.”

I looked at Aleksandr; he looked back at me blankly – actually, 'blankly' wasn't the word for it. It was more... apathetic. He didn't seem to give a single shit about anything going on here. The door opened behind us, though, and had us break eye contact. Another man had managed to get the door open while holding a toolbox under one arm, holding onto a guitar case with the other, and with one last suitcase sitting just outside. He was balding, with a light amount of stubble covering his jaw and what little remains of his hair being shaved close to his head. “Sorry 'm late, the train was havin' some issues getting' goin' again,” he said cheerfully, in a smooth Southern twang. “Had t' help fix 'er up.”  
Soldier nodded at him, turning back to the clipboard. “Are you...?”  
“Stetson. Rick.”

The newcomer set down his toolbox and guitar case, and quickly reached out to bring his suitcase in. “Alright, there you are. Well! Looks like everyone they wanted to get here is here now.”  
I blinked, raising my hand slightly. “Uh, aren't there supposed to be six of us?”  
Soldier just kind of stared at me for a long moment, long enough that I started to wonder if I'd said something wrong. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, with possible adjustments – the other two are already here. I'll show you to the bunks; pick out your beds, 'cause we're having our first war meeting.”  
I thought about asking why, since we'd all just gotten here, but thought better of it, nodding instead and grabbing my bags.

The 'bunks' was more like a giant room filled with 5 bunk beds. We had to push two together in order to get a bed big enough to fit Heavy, and I took a top bunk with Engineer below me. Three other bunks were already spoken for, presumably for Soldier and our mystery teammates.  
We got a brief tour on our way to the war room, passing by the dining hall and meeting up with the first of the other two arrivals. “This is... uh. Yusheng? Yusheng Liang,” Soldier said with some difficulty. The gas-masked, rubber-suited person before us nodded, giving Soldier a thumbs-up. “He's our Pyro.”  
“Nrrs tr mre yuh,” is what came out of the filters of the mask; I assumed he was trying to say "Nice to meet you", and just eyed him up and down before raising my eyebrow.  
“Full uniform already?”

Soldier ushered us off to the war room before I could question it too much further. “So much for a bit of R&R,” I muttered quietly as I followed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the amount of time it took just to get a second chapter up! Unfortunately, I can't promise any other updates will come at a more timely pace. Lots of irons in the fire and whatnot!
> 
> Anyway. ONWARDS.

There was a thin haze of cigarette smoke in the war room, all emanating from a single point in the far corner. Another man, dressed in a sleek blue suit and a ski mask, sitting with his legs crossed and watching all of us like a elderly cat staring down the family's new puppy. I waved the smoke away with a small cough and took a seat at the U-shaped table, set up around a projector and a screen, which was showing what I presumed to be a map of our base.

“And this,” Soldier said with a gesture at the man. “Is our Spy.”  
“What, no first-name basis with this guy?” I sniggered, leaning forward with my elbows on the table after waiting for Soldier to continue.

The glowing embers of the mystery man's cigarette shifted as he uncrossed his legs, his black Cuban-heeled boots clicking softly on the floor. “My job does not allow me to... _divulge_ personal information,” he said casually, with a mildly nasal accent – sounded French.  
“It does, however, let you get intel on the other base.” Soldier patted the projector. “Gives us a small amount of preparation, at the very least. Care to share your findings with the class?”

There was a small moment of awkward, silent stillness before Spy sighed, snuffing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and standing. He was tall, kind of lanky, and his nose in profile could have rivaled a Roman general's.

“Ze RED base is, essentially, identical to our own in regards to structure,” Spy said, taking Soldier's spot at the projector. “'Owever, most, if not all, of zeir team 'as already arrived, so we should expect 'eavy resistance.”  
“Any resistance can be broken down if you beat into it hard enough.” Soldier crossed his arms and shrugged. “With a well-put offense, we could just rush in and bombard 'em. Blitzkrieg.”  
“Unless their Engineer gets set up before we get the chance,” Engineer pointed out, having finally lifted up his goggles. “If they're usin' the same plans as us, a Sentry could easily rip us to shreds.”

“My suggestion?” Spy brought his hand to his chin in thought. “Study zis map carefully. Learn all ze entrances and exits, and focus on defenses until zey slip up. Zhen, we go in for the kill.”  
“We're just goin' in to get intel, right? Do we know what it looks like or whatever?” I asked, tipping my chair as I leaned forward.  
Spy nodded and switched out the transparency of the map for a picture of a briefcase. “It is all contained in a briefcase, kept in a safe. It will take some teamwork and cooperation to get it wizhout troubles. The same is ze case wizh our intel.”

“Trial and error, boys,” Soldier said, folding his hands behind his back. “Now, the enemy _has_ been instructed to shoot-to-kill if they must. So have we.” He must have seen my eyebrows raise slightly because then he added, “So if any of you have hesitations, get over them. Quickly. We have an equipment room and shooting range where you can get accustomed to your weapons. I'd suggest you do that at some point before the end of the night. We start waging war _tomorrow_.”

“These guys really didn't waste any time droppin' us into the thick of it,” I said as we exited the war room towards the dining hall. “So was anyone else told we'd be _killin'_ people here?”  
“ Technically, we're only been given the go-ahead to shoot to kill,” Engineer replied, expression a bit grim. “Still, it doesn't settle right with me, either.”  
I sighed, rubbing the back of my head. “Well... I'm gonna go check out my weapons, then. Any idea what we're doin' for dinner?”  
“We 'ave a schedule for who cooks and when,” Spy said from behind me, so suddenly that I jumped slightly in surprise. He didn't seem to notice, walking past me and disappearing past the dining hall towards the main entrance room, fishing a cigarette out of a silver case.  
Pyro raised his hand as he passed, heading into the dining room. I watched as he made his way through the tables and went into a back room – the kitchen.

By the time I felt like I'd gotten a decent handle on my weapons, noting that the kickback on my Scattergun would take some getting used to, dinner was already underway. I slid next to Engineer just in time for Pyro to place some kind of weird noodle bowl in front of me before silently heading back out. I watched him with a raised eyebrow before shrugging and tentatively digging in.

There was a little window in the dining room that looked out on the desert, some kind of patio area, and Spy's silhouette. He glanced in on us, his eyes meeting mine for a brief second before he turned back to his cigarette. I frowned, shaking my head and pausing before finishing off my food and heading to the kitchen to drop the bowl in the sink.

We found Pyro in the common area, his own dinner set off to the side. By this point, it'd become clear that for whatever reason, he didn't want us to see his face, so I just shrugged and starting poking around for something to do. The TV only received about three channels that weren't fuzzy with static, so we all settled down for some poker.  
Spy came back in while we were in the middle of a game, and I gestured to an empty spot around the coffee table. “You in?”  
He shook his head, taking a seat on the sofa next to Pyro and crossing one leg over the other. He watched the match, occasionally chiming in with some new topic of conversation when things got too quiet. He even cracked a joke once or twice, something of a relief for me; I didn't think I could handle that much seriousness for however long I'd be here.

Before we knew it, it was almost midnight, and we all shuffled back to the bunks to try and get some rest. Pyro made a point to get there before us so he could get settled in before we could see him take off his mask, and Spy just kind of settled in with a magazine. I'd almost drifted off when I heard someone move, and cracked one eye open to see he had slid his shoes off and was loosening his tie. He paused for a moment before reaching up to pull off his mask.

I was surprised at just how...  _tired_ he looked. The bags under his eyes had bags. But he was also... almost disappointingly average-looking, aside from that big nose. He massaged the bridge of his nose for a second, ruffling his dark hair before continuing to take off his tie and vest. He must have felt me looking at him, because he looked at me, eyebrows furrowed. I made sure to close my eyes again when he did, and didn't open them again even through the sounds of him settling down.

The next thing I knew, I was startled awake by the sound of a loud horn. “Up and at 'em!” Soldier barked, already almost completely dressed, before heading out of the bunks. “War-time begins at eight thirty, sharp,” he continued as we were all eventually ushered out of our beds and into the armory. “There's a temporary cease-fire around noon, then a permanent one at five or until we secure their intel.”  
“We fight on a  _schedule_ ?” I muttered under my breath, a bit dumbfounded as I pulled my shirt on over my head.

“Mission begins in thirty seconds.”  
I paused from checking my weapons, looking up at the sound of a female voice over the speakers. “Who the hell's that?”

“The Announcer,” Engineer replied, positioning his hard hat on his head and his goggles over his eyes. “Lets us know what's goin' on.”

Right. Because  _that_ made sense. I shook my head and carefully slid on my headset before taking a quick look around while stretching. It was amazing how calm everyone seemed. Spy casually fishing a cigarette from his case; Heavy lifting up Sasha, examining it critically before scratching off what must have been a spot of dirt; Engineer whistling quietly as he attached his wrench to his belt; Soldier standing at attention by the shutters leading outside; and Pyro, clutching his flamethrower either out of anxiety or anticipation.

“Improvise, men,” Solider said after a moment, while the Announcer's voice informed us that we had ten seconds left. “Try not to let 'em know what's going to hit 'em. Last one alive, lock the door!”  
“Five... four... three... two... one!”

And, with a warning siren, the shutters opened.


End file.
